A Lasting Influence
by OnlyFunOnFridays
Summary: Abraxas Malfoy frowned upon Lucius joining this nonsensical Death Eaters business.


**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters or situations are not gleaned from the depths of my own brain.**

Deep in the belly of Malfoy Manor, Abraxas Malfoy pondered over the direction his eldest son's life was taking. The boy had taken an extreme fancy to some sort of club, lead by a man who had squandered his life over at that trinket shop owned by Caractacus. If surnames revealed a man, Caractacus Burke lived up to his very well. Even hiring the slowly decaying Riddle boy was a mistake, in Abraxas's opinion.

Two fingers absentmindedly stroking the blond hairs, his moustache quivered as Abraxas called out, "Lucius!"

His son, young and handsome, strode through the hidden door into Abraxas's study. The firelight left an odd cast on his pale face, leaving dark shadows in its path and ageing him considerably. Deep bags, invisible in any other light, carved themselves beneath his grey eyes. His full lips were squeezed tight in anticipation of his father's ruling. An edge beneath his expression would lead to the belief that he would be keeping to his own choice, no matter what the older man had to say.

"You called," said Lucius when his father merely looked him over with a slightly bemused expression. Lucius made sure to stand clear of the fire, as his father was known for disposing of his cigars mid-sentence, throwing them around anyone in the way of the blaze.

"Maximilien informed me of your involvement with a man by the name of Tom Riddle," said Abraxas slowly, surveying his son's expression carefully.

"Lord Volde..." his voice trailed off. Abraxas noted a slight wince at the name.

"So, this man refers to himself as 'lord', does he not?" probed Abraxas. "Wyndham recognizes self-titling as a distinguished sort of overcompensation."

"The Dark Lord has to compensate for nothing," said Lucius. His voice was fevered in its enthusiasm, the timbre shaking. "He will be great."

"Will he?" answered Abraxas kindly.

"Without any shadow of a doubt."

Slowly, he slid his eyes' focus from Lucius to the portrait above the fire. It was of the living members of the Malfoy family, stern, but concernedly looking at Lucius. The boy's own countenance was carefree, focused on eternally wooing the beautiful girl posing with him. Quietly, Abraxas said, "What does Narcissa think about your newest folly?"

"Cissy will support me in whatever I choose to do, be it this or any other number of decisions," said Lucius sharply. A shiver beneath his words failed to evade Abraxas's notice.

The elder man had noticed a change in his eldest's fiancée of late. Her radiant skin had become sallower with worry, her speaking softer. Maximilien, eternally charismatic and slightly nosy, tried to find the source of her problem. It was Narcissa's own sister that had told him exactly what Lucius was being drawn in to, that information then relayed to Abraxas.

That same night, he had decided to confront Lucius about his becoming a Death Eater. The name itself caused his consternation. Was this Lord Voldemort character really planning on destroying death as one would a pasty? Surely, the man was daft.

Finally, slowly, Abraxas said, "Speak to Narcissa and unearth her true opinion on your involvement with these people. I know she will have something to say. She is a wise girl when you give her time away from the influence of her closest family members."

"I will," said Lucius. "May I return to dinner?"

Abraxas nodded once, his gaze never straying from Lucius. The blond youth was only nineteen, and yet he was starting his own life, a life that was causing his father due concern. As he walked out of his father's study, his posture was paradoxical. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his family's disapproval, yet with each step he bounced as though buoyed by his determination to continue on. Hopefully, Narcissa would be able to convince him to rethink.

Abraxas sunk into his armchair, cigar hanging limply from below his slowly greying handlebar. One hand massaged his oiled scalp, exposed by a thinning hairline. He tried not to notice the colour of his skin, a weak green. Permelia had taken the initiative to ban him from gatherings of too many people, leaving him out of touch with his extended family and closest acquaintances.

Hopefully, he would carry on though his illness. Hopefully, Abraxas would live to see his son's final decision. Hopefully, he would leave a lasting, positive effect on his favourite child. Hopefully, he would live to see Lucius make him proud.

**I'm thinking about starting (and finishing) a story about the Malfoy family during this time period. Any thoughts?**


End file.
